


There You Go Again

by yucatan_handbook



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 08:17:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yucatan_handbook/pseuds/yucatan_handbook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something has changed between Derek and Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There You Go Again

**Author's Note:**

> A censored version posted originally on ff.net, this is the complete one.

Stiles grips the steering wheel a little harder and glances to his side. On the passenger's side Scott is absolutely seething, clenching and unclenching his fist as he stares the out the window.

“I'm gonna kill him,” Scott says out loud and turns to look at him, waiting for a reaction. Stiles keeps his eyes on the empty road before them and says nothing. It's better not to comment when Scott gets this way. After a stretched silence Scott sets his jaw and looks ahead as well. 

“If he goes near her again, I will kill him.” 

Stiles struggles not to roll his eyes at the resolution he hears in his friend's voice. He takes a moment to wet his drying lips with his tongue as he considers his words.

“He's not going to hurt–”

“You don't know that,” Scott cuts him off before he even has a chance to finish his sentence. This time Stiles doesn't bother trying to hide his eye-roll.

“He's not a–”

“You know what he did to her mother.”

“She was trying to kill you!” Stiles stares wide-eyed at Scott who is still staring ahead, refusing to meet his gaze. “Oh my god, Scott! He saved your life!”

Stiles watches Scott's jaw work for a few moments, but in the end his friend only mutters: “Watch the road, Stiles.”

It takes Stiles a few moments before Scott's words register and then he reflexively jerks the steering wheel to the side and almost over-corrects the jeep into a ditch. They are lucky the road is empty as the vehicle swerves dangerously from side to side before Stiles gets it under control again.

Stiles swears colorfully as he tries to get his erratic heartbeat to settle down again. He ventures a quick glance at Scott only to find his friend looking out the window, biting his lower lip in an effort not to smile.

“Asshole,” Stiles mutters and Scott finally bursts out laughing.

“Sorry man but you should have seen your face!”

Stiles keeps his eyes on the road but cracks a smile anyway for good effort.

* * *

“Pull over here,” Scott says and points at a little widening on the road before the crossroads that lead into the woods. 

“Why?” Stiles asks his but brings the jeep to a still anyway. 

Scott clenches and unclenches his fist one more time.

“I don't want him to hear us...” 

He doesn't finish the sentence but opens the car door and exits instead.

“Why's that?” Stiles asks again only to have the car door shut on his question. Quickly he opens his own door and exits the jeep.

“Scott!”

Scott turns to look at him over the hood, looking guilty as hell.

“What are you–,” Stiles tries again before he gets drown out by Scott's “I don't know!”

Stiles sees him shift his weight from one leg to the other. Derek had confronted Allison at a local shooting range a few nights before. Allison had refused to divulge the details of their 'discussion' to Scott but the young werewolf was absolutely livid with Derek anyway. So here they were, on their way to... to tell Derek off, or something.

“I don't know. I just...” Scott shrugs his shoulders helplessly. 

Silently Stiles glances at the edge of the forest looming at the end of the field. The sun is uncharacteristically hidden away by a thick layer of watery clouds. With a sigh the teen pulls his hood up to fight back the chills that go up his spine.

“Okay,” he says and slams his door shut before tucking his hands into his pockets. And with that they start making their way towards the woods on foot, Scott leading the way and Stiles bringing up the rear.

* * *

They don't speak as they walk through the forest, but every once in a while Scott whips his head back and pins Stiles with an angry look whenever the boy manages to step on a particularly loud twig. Stiles pays no mind as he puts all his effort into not falling on the slippery rocks instead. The air in the forrest is heavy with humidity and there are no animal noises detectable, not by human ears anyway.

'Dead space,' Stiles thinks to himself absentmindedly as he swipes his sleeve across his forehead.

Finally they make their way to the old Hale house. It looks just as abandoned as the last time Styles was here. But Stiles knows it was just an illusion. Derek has been doing renovations inside ever since he got back to town. There were piles and piles of rubbish, tools and building material tugged just around the corner, hidden from sight.

Without hesitation Scott marches up to the main entrance with Stiles lagging 10 feet behind with his hands still deep in the pockets of his hoodie.

“DEREK!” Scott yells at the house and Stiles just looks at him in disbelief. What was even the point of sneaking through the forest and Derek not being able to hear them if Scott was just going to announce their arrival anyway? 

“DER–” 

Suddenly Scott goes very still. Stiles sees Scott sniff the air a few times before he whips around to look at the direction they just came from. Stiles follows his lead and turns around to see Derek standing 30 feet behind them in a grey wifebeater and a pair of faded jeans. He looks good.

“Scott,” Derek drawls before his eyes fix on Stiles's. 

Stiles hears Scott start his tirade about Derek overstepping boundaries and state his demands that the alpha stay away from Allison, but Stiles is having a hard time following his monologue. Derek is looking right at him, only at him, and suddenly it is almost like the thick air of the forest was wrapping itself around Scott, muffling his voice until it's only a faint whisper from the bottom of the sea.

Stiles keeps his eyes on Derek, takes in the thick hair, unruly beard, weathered skin and beautiful, beautiful eyes. Stiles can see from the eyes that there is a small smile pulling at the corner of the alpha's mouth, even as his lips are pressed into an unhumored thin line. Stiles has a sneaking feeling that there is a corresponding smirk lurking on his own lips, threatening to surface.

Silently Derek starts stalking closer. From the corner of his eye, Stiles can see Scott's whole body tense as the younger werewolf takes a few steps to the side, ready to fight or flight.

Stiles is rooted to where he stands, unable and unwilling to move. Slowly he pulls his hands out of his pockets as Derek draws closer, close enough to touch. He hears a tinge of urgency enter Scott's voice but still he is unable to make out a single word. Derek pays the other werewolf no mind as he steps between the two teenagers, turning his back at Scott's growling.

Without taking his eyes off Stiles's, Derek lifts his hand and brings it behind the teen's back. Carefully pinching the tip of Stiles's hood, he pulls it down in one swift move and watches a shiver run down the boy's body at the chillness of the air. Just for a moment Stiles sees the warmth from the werewolf's eyes spread all over his face and Stiles can just stand in wonder.

After breathing deeply in once, Derek lets go of the hood and continues past Stiles. Behind his back a crouching Scott is bearing his teeth, ready to pounce. 

The older werewolf walks leisurely up the stairs to his porch where he turns around to face the boys once again with his arms crossed over his chest. For the first time since his arrival, he fixes his gaze on Scott.

“Anything else?” he says in a low voice as he watches Scott struggle to pull back his wolf.

Drawing in a shaky breath Scott returns his gaze resolutely.

“Just stay away from us,” Scott speaks in a foreign voice, altered by the huge fangs protruding out of his mouth. “Stay away from Allison. Lydia, Jackson...”

Stiles feels more than anything Scott glance at him for backup, for his input, for anything, but Stiles keeps his silence and his eyes on the unmoving alpha.

After a silent moment Scott gives up on him and turns to look at Derek as well.

“We're not your pack,” he says with finality. “We never will be.”

With those words Scott turns around and heads back the way they came from. Stiles sees him go but still hesitates, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Derek isn't looking at him anymore.

He hears Scott call for him from the side of the clearing and with a jolt Stiles whips around and hurries to join the other teen. He throws a parting glance over his shoulder as he is stepping into the woods. In the end he is not at all surprised to see Derek still standing on the porch, watching them go.

* * *

Once again the two boys march through the woods without a word. Finally Scott breaks the silence.

“You alright?” he mutters seemingly to no one in particular. 

“Fine,” Stiles replies.

Scott sighs and the last of his lupine features retreat without a trace.

“Sorry,” the boy says. “I shouldn't have dragged you along.”

“You didn't,” Stiles replies easily. “I volunteered to come.”

Scott just glances at him before plowing on.

“Still, I should have said no.”

Stiles waits for the other shoe to drop.

“It's not safe for you.”

Stiles doesn't even bother try stifle the scoff that escapes his lips.

“I'm fine. It's fine.” It's not like they haven't had this talk before. “He wasn't going to hurt me.”

“No?!”

Stiles is startled by the Scott's sudden exclamation. He lifts his eyes from where they had been trained on the ground, trying to prevent him from tripping over on roots. When he looks up Scott is unabashedly staring at him with his eyes wide open, arms flailing to the side. Without even thinking, Stiles finds himself mirroring his friend in the universal pose for 'Dude! What the hell?!'

“It's Derek!” is all that Stiles can say. 

“Exactly!” Scott cries. “It's Derek! Why are you defending him?”

Stiles's brows furrow. “I'm not–”

“Yes you are!” Scott cuts him off immediately. “What is going on Stiles? Why are you..? You hate him!”

Stiles arms double the flailing as he sputters at Scott's words.

“I don't hate him!” Stiles exclaims with equal ferocity.

“Stiles–”

“I don't!” This time it's Stiles's turn to cut his friend off.

“You used to beg me to kill him!”

The wet forest engulfs Scott's words as quickly as they leave his lips leaving only a pregnant silence at their wake.

“Don't say that,” Stiles manages without looking the werewolf in the eyes.

Seconds pass and finally Scott speaks with a level voice.

“I don't get it,” he says. “What's changed?”

Stiles can feel Scott's eyes bore a hole on the top of his skull from where he has his eyes trained on the ground. He knows the other is waiting for him to reply, but Stiles is not going to.

After long silent seconds Scott blows air out of his nose in evident annoyance.

“Whatever,” the werewolf mutters. “I'm gonna go to Allison's. You okay to get back to the jeep on your own?”

Stiles nods his head at the ground before mumbling a hurried “Yep” for emphasis.

When Scott doesn't leave immediately Stiles has no choice but to look up at his friend once again. Scott just stares at him, studying him face, for a moment longer.

“See you later,” Scott finally says and turns around to head Southwest towards the Argents' estate.

“Yep!” Stiles repeats with unnecessary enthusiasm. “Will do!” He calls after his friend's retreating back.

Stiles watches as Scott takes off in a run, leaping over tree trunks and rocks alike with ease he himself could only dream about. The werewolf is already almost out of sight, but Stiles knows the impressive pace is nothing more than a jog for Scott.

Silence falls over Stiles, Scott already long gone, but he still decides to wait a moment longer, forcing himself to count to a hundred in his head, just to be safe.

Straining his ears to hear any sounds, Stiles glances all around him to make sure he is alone.

His eyes land on the pathway he and Scott had been treading on their way from the Hale house. Worrying his lower lip between his teeth, Stiles shoves his hands deep in his pockets and heads back the way he came from.

* * *

The house looks empty, but Stiles is not fooled. Not for a second. The sun is starting to set behind the clouds and Stiles struggles to see any signs of Derek. Not letting himself think about it twice, the teen walks up the steps to the porch, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the alpha hasn't appeared behind him like before. But the yard is empty.

Stiles considers knocking on the door, but in the end decides against it. He doesn't want to knock on the door. Doesn't want Derek to answer it, and then for them to have a chat on the dark porch. Stiles lets his hand land on the big brass handle and twists it to find it unlocked, just like he suspected it would be. He pushes the door slightly and it swings back with an ominous wail.

Nothing.

Stiles steps in and pushes the door shut again. He considers checking the kitchen first but in the end his feet move by themselves and lead him to the doorway to the family room instead. Derek is sitting on the sofa, hunched forward with his arms propped on his knees, his eyes trained on Stiles.

Stiles waits for Derek to say something. To do something. But he doesn't.

Moments pass and the room turns darker still. Stiles plays with the hem of his hoodie for a moment before making a decision and pulling it up over his head in one swift movement. He pulls his arms out and lets the piece of clothing fall on the dusty floor by his feet.

Stiles watches Derek watch him a moment longer before he turns on his heels and heads towards the grand staircase and the second floor bedrooms. Derek follows.

* * *

In Derek's bedroom the alpha finally reaches out to touch him. A soothing warmth covers Stiles's back as the werewolf draws the boy closer and pushes his face into his neck. Stiles runs his fingers through Derek's hair, the other hand sneaking back to pull the man closer still before sneaking his icy fingers under the hem of Derek's shirt where they find warmth on the supernaturally heated skin. Derek doesn't complain, opting to abandon Stiles's neck in search of his lips instead. Derek's hand holds Stiles's jaw still as he explores the teen's mouth with his tongue. Stiles's back arches as he attempts to gain leverage to do the same. 

Finally Stiles breaks away to draw in deep breaths as he steps away from the werewolf's grasp. Turning around to face the man, Stiles can't help the smile that creeps on his face despite himself. It is as if a heavy rock falls off his heart when sees Derek's features smooth out to the serene warmth of earlier that day.

Quickly Stiles sets to discard the rest of his clothes and finds himself completely in the nude before the alpha even manages to toe his shoes off. But instead of helping the werewolf out, Stiles steps back to sit on the edge of the bed and watch Derek remove his shirt and jeans. 

The man didn't believe in underwear, but Stiles knows that already.

Raking his eyes once over body in front of him Stiles hand reaches forward almost like in a dream. Reaching for a hand or for a cock, Stiles doesn't even know but when Derek obediently steps closer Stiles finds both his hands wrapping around a pair of firm buttocks as he bends forward and catches the werewolf's already hard length in his mouth.

He hears a satisfying breath from above and a calloused hand catches the back of his head for support. 

Stiles quickly wraps his hand at the base of Derek's cock and set out for urgent rhythm. He knows Derek can take it.

When a lack of oxygen starts making him dizzy Stiles leans back to gulp his lungs full of air he so desperately craves. With a roll of his eyes Derek wraps an arm around the boy's torso and unceremoniously dumps him on his back in the middle of the bed before disappearing into the bathroom. 

Stiles closes his eyes as he slowly runs his hand up and down his own length, listening to the sound of Derek rattling around in the other room. He thinks about alerting Derek to the condom and packet of lube stashed away in his wallet but then Derek is already back, looming over him on the bed and replacing his hand with his own.

Releasing out a small moan under Derek's ministrations Stiles picks up the condom where Derek had dropped it on the bed just a moment before. Halting only to suck in a shuddering breath when Derek's thumb swipes at the precum gathering at the tip of his cock, Stiles finally manages to peal the folio open and take the rubber out. Derek scoots closer and Stiles makes a valiant effort in trying to roll it on the man with only one hand and eyes continuously fluttering shut in pleasure. Fortunately Derek helps him out.

Grabbing the werewolf by the wrist Stiles stills his ministrations and flips over on his stomach. Derek's weight settles between his legs and he feels a strong pair of hands kneading on his thighs and ass before the man reaches for the lubricant.

Laying there on his stomach, waiting for Derek to cover his fingers with the lube Stiles feels all his senses heighten. He can hear the silence, the total silence of the woods. The quiet creaking and popping of the old Hale house in the humidity. The room is dark but Stiles's eyes are used to it now. He smells the moldy scent of the room, and the faintly musky scent of Derek's sheets. Underneath it all he can smell faint whiff of burnt wood and ash.

Most of all he feels. His shivers once again as the cool air of the room registers on his overheated skin. All the nerve ends on his back seem to be tingling in anticipation of the return of Derek's touch and he can't stop himself from rutting ever-so-slightly against the coarse fabric of the sheets under him.

Finally Derek's large palm on his back stills his movement and he feels the first digit at his entrance. He lets a long, content breath as the finger breaks the natural barrier of resistance and pushes in.

* * *

Derek knew that Stiles liked to be... penetrated, from behind. On his hands and knees until his elbows buckled under the strain or flat on his belly with Derek sitting spread-eagle on the back of his thighs, frantically pushing as deep as he could as he rocked the whole bed against the dusty wall. Or even sideways with Derek holding one of his gangly legs up for absolute exposure. 

But it was only after the teen had come, biting his teeth not to moan out loud that Stiles allowed himself to be rearranged on his back for Derek to work on his own release. Derek knew the boy was exhausted and sore by then and he tried to move as gently as he could bear it as he positioned himself between the teen's pale thighs and pushed in before setting for a steady rhythm. 

Stiles would look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, gentle fingers tracing the furrows on his face before the effort to keep even one arm in the air became too much for him. Derek would then lean down and kiss the boy thoroughly until he could feel his release start to coil at the bottom of his stomach. Stiles would summon the remnants of whatever energy he could muster and hook his heels behind the back of Derek's thighs, cup the globes of his ass in his hands and urge him deeper and deeper in with every thrust.

When he would finally come, Derek would sink his human teeth at Stiles's head-neck junction and pump his seed as deep as he could, relenting only after he'd come down from his high.

Stiles would allow Derek to lie there half on top of him, the werewolf breathlessly kissing him on his temple, jaw and neck as he regained his wits about him, oftentimes promptly falling asleep before Derek had the chance to do just that.

But Derek didn't mind. He would get rid of the condom and wipe them both clean with a piece of cloth before tucking Stiles under the sheets. He himself would be way too heated to stay under the bedding and too restless to sleep. He would pace around the room to cool himself down, sometimes stepping outside as an extreme measure. Then he would settle down on one of the chairs in the room to try to calm his anxious mind enough to eventually actually join Stiles on the bed in the hopes of settle down for sleep.

But tonight Derek has a different plan. He had seen Stiles shiver in the cold air and he didn't want that. There is a fireplace downstairs that can warm the whole house up even on a cold winter's night. They had rarely used even when his parents were still alive and never after the fire. But it is still intact. Derek had checked.

He also has tree trunks in the shed, dry enough to make fire with. He just has to take some out and chop them down to smaller pieces to burn.

Not bothering with clothes Derek heads downstairs.

* * *

It isn't until hours later that Derek finally joins Stiles on the bed. He had chopped up a small mountain of wood and then proceeded to burn it in the fireplace until he could be sure the warmth had spread to the second floor bedrooms as well. Then he sat for another hour and a half waiting for the fire to die down and the hearth to cool until he could be sure that nothing would be catching fire while he slept.

Carefully not to disturb the teen's slumber Derek lays his head on the pillow next to Stiles's. Nevertheless soon enough amber eyes blink open to look at him. But before Derek has a chance to apologize Stiles produces a languid smile for him before throwing an arm over the expanse of bhis are chest and closing his eyes again and drifting back to sleep.

* * *

The next morning Derek wakes up in an empty bed. Blinking at the brightness of the room Derek deducts it was much later than his usual 5AM wake-up. Slowly scratching his belly Derek tries to focus his hearing to cover the entire house but soon the pressure against his bladder drives him out of the bed and into the bathroom.

There is water splashed in and around the bathtub clueing Derek in to the fact that Stiles had showered there not long before. Derek is sorry to have missed that. The house doesn't have actual plumbing but Derek had installed a pump system that carries water from the stream into the house. The water originated from the mountains and was at times icy cold. Derek didn't mind it but Stiles always put on quite a spectacle when he had to use it.

In the bedroom Derek pulls on his discarded jeans before heading downstairs barefoot. He pokes his head into the kitchen and sees his usual coffee mug placed on the table with two packets of sugar laid purposefully next to it. Glancing into the mug Derek can see a good two spoonfuls of instant coffee already measured in it. Taking the mug to the stove Derek touches the side of the kettle with his fingers. It is still warm and with a small smile Derek pours the steaming water over the coffee.

Dumping the contents of one of the packets of sugar into the mug Derek thinks to check the backyard. Slowly spinning his spoon in the mug Derek nudges the back door open to glance around. There is no one there but the werewolf notes that the bricked fireplace he uses to cook his food and boil his water is still giving off heat so it mustn't have been long since Stiles had boiled the water.

Dropping his spoon into the sink on his way back through the kitchen Derek decides to head to the family room next before maybe trying the library. But two steps into the corridor and he comes to an abrupt halt.

Stiles's hoodie. Where the boy had dropped it at the doorway the night before. It isn't there anymore.

Letting his eyes fall shut Derek focuses on hearing the entire house again. Slowly his eyelids flutter open and he looks at the spot on the floor where the hoodie should have been.

There was no one there. He was alone in the house.

Swallowing once Derek sets his coffee on a small table next to the stairwell before heading back upstairs.

**Author's Note:**

> There has been a lot of discussion in the fandom about whether or not Stiles actually canonically is a motor mouth unable to ever stop babbling out loud, so the only prompt I gave myself was to write a Sterek fic where Stiles and Derek don't speak to each other at all.
> 
> Ergo, smut.


End file.
